


down on the golden floor

by the_other_lutece_sister



Series: propunk one-shots [11]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Narcissism, Smut, plus rachel being gay for her own self as usual, propunk - Freeform, propunk gold au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 02:43:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9362693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_other_lutece_sister/pseuds/the_other_lutece_sister
Summary: Sarah drops in on Rachel, not her greatest idea.set in the same propunk au as 'gold won't ever comfort me'





	

The door slammed shut and a voice echoed through the apartment.

“Oi!” Feet shuffled, something thudded onto a hard surface. “Rachel? You in?” Footsteps echoed and came closer.

Rachel’s eyes narrowed slightly but she didn’t look away from the mirror. She would need to speak to Troy about _who_ he let into the building and _when_. Of course, Sarah could be quite persuasive (she felt a pull deep down, smoothed a hand down her ribcage, mentally shook herself) when she wanted something. She had probably found whatever buttons Troy had to push, and been granted free access. She thought about Sarah poking around in here, unsupervised, tracking in dirt on her boots and smearing make-up all over the couch. Rachel shuddered. She might just have to have the locks changed.

Again.

 

An arm in a leather jacket swung on the doorframe, bringing Sarah into her line of vision. She was grinning that wolfish grin that showed her canines and her hair was - Rachel wavered between ‘birds nest’ and some sort of dyed-black fairy floss as descriptors, then made a small, impatient gesture with her eyeshadow brush.

“Hello, Sarah,” she said in a kind of resigned sigh, still not looking away from the mirror.

The black-clad figure sauntered into the room.

“Shoulda known that’s where you’d be.” Her expression was a perfect mix of amusement and disgust. She’d often joked that Rachel would die without a reflection. It was the kind of joke that neither of them laughed at.

Rachel shifted her gaze to Sarah’s image.

“I have an important business dinner tonight, Sarah. Which I _had_ informed you about.” Her eyes moved back to her own face and she carefully ran the brush along her eyelid. “So _why_ are you here, exactly?”

She could see the shape of Sarah shrugging, moving about behind her, picking up things and turning them over in her hands, then plopping them back down in exactly the wrong place.

“Got bored,” she said cheerfully. She wandered over to Rachel, ran a light finger down the bare skin of her back.

Rachel moved the brush to her other eyelid.

“Shouldn’t you be spending this time with your daughter?” she asked, pointedly. She blinked slowly, moved her head side to side, looked satisfied. Put the brush down, picked up a larger brush.

Sarah’s finger stopped moving. She stepped away.

“That’s none of your bloody business,” she said sharply, picking up a small wooden box, and putting it down again with a loud _crack_ . “Anyway, she’s stayin’ over at a friends. If you _must_ know.”

Rachel didn’t have to look at her to know she was scowling. She stroked the brush gently down her cheekbones. Of course, it _was_ her business but she chose not to remind Sarah of that right now.

“How lovely,” she remarked in a bored voice. She could hear Sarah resume her circling around the room behind her, restlessly pacing like a caged lioness. “Shouldn’t you be at a bar somewhere then, getting boys to buy you drinks?” The brush was laid down and she picked up the eyelash curler.

Sarah scoffed right behind her. “Jealous?”, she breathed into Rachel’s ear, giving her that half-snarl half-grin in the mirror that made her hands tremble just a fraction for no reason whatsoever. She breathed out and made sure her hand was steady before lifting the metal contraption to her eye.

“Don’t be absurd,” she said levelly, the curler closed, opened, applied to the other eye. Sarah watched with a kind of horrified fascination, then shook her head.

“You’ll have yer eye out one day with that bloody thing,” she muttered.

“Only if _someone_ is being incredibly irritating and _distracts_ me, Sarah.” Rachel laid the curler down with a _clink_ and picked up the mascara. Holding her eyes wide open, she delicately touched the wand to her eyelashes, noting her pupils were slightly dilated. Not because of Sarah, of course.

After tilting her head and examining her face from every angle, she hummed a satisfied sound and began to apply her lipstick. Or rather, lip primer, liner, base coat, top coat. Sarah disappeared for a moment and Rachel heard the sound of clinking glass and liquid sloshing. “Help yourself,” she murmured, lips barely moving as she flicked the red-tipped brush over them in smooth, precise movements. She couldn’t remember precisely _when_ she had started stocking bourbon in her bar, but there it was.

There was the _chink_ of heavy crystal meeting wood, and Rachel called out sharply,

“Coaster, Sarah, we’re not animals!” The only reply was a snorting noise. There were more sounds - the faint clink of glass on teeth, glass on wood, glass being refilled. Rachel stared at herself in silent fury, then closed her eyes and exhaled. She had no time for an argument, or what inevitably _followed_ their arguments, as tempting as that thought was. She ran a hand down the silk that covered her ribcage, grazed it against the thin satin of her knickers. She flinched slightly as a hand covered hers and her eyes snapped open.

Sarah was pressed up against her, the leather creaking against the bare skin of her back, the metal of the zip cold, the teeth in her shoulder pointed, the eyes meeting hers in the mirror dark and sullen and hungry. She recognized that look. The hunger to be _seen_.

 

Rachel considered. Her eyes flicked down to her phone. 6.48pm. Drinks from 7.30. Dinner at 8pm. Fine. She still made a half-hearted attempt to push Sarah’s hand away. It didn’t pay to make it _too_ easy for her.

 

Sarah just pushed back harder. Her lips were moving across the line of Rachel’s shoulder, leaving a series of teeth marks, her other hand curling around a hip. Rachel found herself betrayed by her own fingers as they instinctively shifted under Sarah’s, moving to where they would do her the most pleasure. She felt a denim-clad knee nudging its way between her legs and she gripped the counter edge with her free hand, leaning a little closer to the mirror. Her eyes looked both darker and brighter, there was a slight flush across her chest, and she could feel the corresponding dampness against the hand between her thighs. Her eyelids fluttered as Sarah pressed down again, forcing Rachel’s fingers to dig in. She watched her lips part, the red forming a small perfect ‘o’ and her clit throbbed in response.

 

Sarah’s other hand slid up from hipbone to ribs to breast, roughly grabbing, catching the nipple between two fingers.The sound of the leather against the silk filled Rachel’s ears as Sarah’s mouth made its way across her other shoulder, a matching line of bitemarks blooming on the otherwise immaculate skin. She watched, fascinated, as her pupils grew larger - she thought she could almost see the reflection of her reflection in them, an infinite well of Rachel’s, and she shuddered in pleasure as her fingers squeezed just _here_ and Sarah’s hand pressed down just _there_ and the tiniest gasp escaped her throat.

Sarah hummed against her skin and slowly slid her hand away from Rachel's, nails trailing along her wrist, her hip, cupped her arse, then she reached in between Rachel’s thighs from behind. For a moment she rolled her knuckles against the damp satin, giving a humourless chuckle and murmuring _you always get so wet looking at yerself?,_ then pulled the knickers aside and ran her fingers along before shoving them inside, roughly. Rachel gripped the counter harder, reluctantly using both hands now, quickly glancing at her nails, satisfied that the silver polish was still unblemished, then resumed studying her face in the mirror. Her mouth opened a little wider, and she bared her teeth ( _animals_ ) as Sarah fucked her, allowing herself to pant now, as the friction built up and she rode that delicious edge between pleasure and oblivion. Her glance moved over her phone. 7.19pm. Fine.

 

Rachel began to move back against Sarah’s hand, tipping her head back against her shoulder, their reflection slightly blurred by her eyelashes. The blush had stretched up her neck, now, and she was close, she was _so_ close, she just - as if Sarah had read her mind, she gave her nipple another pinch, then skimmed down over her stomach and began to rub slow circles around Rachel’s clitoris, eliciting a groan that vibrated through her throat. The contrast between the slow movement and the urgent thrusting, between her and Sarah in the mirror, between her usual glacial expression and the one she wore now...she opened her eyes wider as she came, not wanting to miss a second, hissing between her teeth as the line of electrical heat made it’s way up her body.

_Mmm_ she sighed, as her muscles loosened, realising she’d been standing on tiptoes and allowing her feet to relax against the cool tiled floor. Sarah’s hands disappeared, and Rachel heard water running behind her. She could just see the faint look of disgust on Sarah’s face, mixed with frustrated arousal, as the brunette studiously avoided her own reflection. She had seen much worse on people’s faces in her presence, and her lips curved as she delicately pulled a sheet of blotting paper from its silver envelope and carefully pressed it against her skin of her cheeks and forehead.

She dusted a little extra scented powder across her breasts and down her inner arms after pulling off her now slightly sweaty slip, and changing her underwear. Then she examined the skin around her neck and shoulders, touching a silver nail to the blemishes left by Sarah’s teeth. Sighing, she chose a different dress than the one already laid out, one with a higher neckline, and stepped into her heels. Meanwhile, Sarah had slipped out of the bathroom and Rachel heard another drink being poured, then the empty glass being set down on bare wood quite emphatically. Boots stomped across the hardwood floors and the front door opened, then she heard Sarah laugh humorlessly and shout out,

“Oi! Your _chauffeur_ is here, _ma’am_.” then, slightly quieter, but no less biting, “She’s all yours, mate.”

Then, she was gone. Rachel was sure a version of ‘never coming back’ was racing around her head - she had heard a million different versions from Sarah already.

She always came back.

**Author's Note:**

> soundtrack - [this version of Golden Floor](https://soundcloud.com/lizziebond/golden-floor-snow-patrol-cover)
> 
> Tell me that you want to dance  
> I want to feel your pulse on mine  
> Just treat me like a stolen glance  
> To yourself
> 
> A dark shape on a golden floor  
> A sleeping planet with a molten core  
> From above we'd cut a slow eight shape  
> And much more
> 
> I'm a peasant in your princess arms  
> Penniless with only charm  
> As we're leveled by the low  
> Hot lights and disarmed


End file.
